


bear & maiden

by forpeaches (bluecarrot)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, EIGHT SEASONS OF IT, F/M, Implied/Referenced Incest, Prisoner of War, Riverlands (ASoIaF), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:13:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22780798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecarrot/pseuds/forpeaches
Summary: another ramble about their ramble in the Riverlands.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58





	bear & maiden

“You will be careful of him,” said Catelyn: it was a question, a reminder, an order. She might have been speaking to one of her daughters.

How strange it was to feel mothered. “I can defend myself quite well, my lady. And he is only one man.”

“He is very good looking,” — annoyed.

Brienne did not answer. She’d seen nothing impressive in the damp, muddy clump the Starks had caged and tied up so carefully — certainly nothing to deserve such elaborate caution.

“You should be careful,” said Catelyn again.

“Yes, my lady.”

“Men like him have a way of finding chinks in your armor.”

“My armor,” said Brienne, “fits me quite well.”

*

The Kingslayer talked endlessly. He insulted her virginity and her island, called her a _great stupid ugly cow of a woman_ , said she promised herself to Renly because only a man like that could bear to look at her — on and on.

Brienne built a small, hot fire and roasted a rabbit. By the time it was finished and cooling, he had stopped talking.

In blessed silence, she separated the joints and handed over his portion.

“What about you?” he said at last.

“What _about_ me?”

“Tell me about yourself.”

_You can’t want to know about a brutish clomping beast like me_ she nearly said. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

He shifted his feet in the leaves, looking comfortable despite the ropes tying him to the tree. Maybe he’d gotten used to being tied. “You remind me of my brother, a bit.”

“The Imp?” She stared. Was that meant to be another joke? 

“He is a dwarf, yes,” said the Kingslayer. “I didn’t mean ... I meant that you and he both treat me as a sort of appendage. A tool. Actually,” and he took another bite, “everyone in my family treats me that way.”

“It’s rude to speak with your mouth full.”

“Beg pardon, my lady. I must have left my manners behind in the Stark dungeons.”

Brienne didn’t reply.

”A dungeon — are you going to eat that? Thank you. A dungeon is a very uncomfortable place to spend any length of time. I don’t know if you’ve ever been interred in one ...? It might even have been worse than being caged in that camp. At least in a cage you get fresh air. And I could annoy others with my stink, instead of only myself.  Misery is easier to bear when it’s spread around.”

She was silent.

“Am I annoying you?” he said, mouth full.

He annoyed her constantly. “How I feel about you doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it _matters_. We’re traveling partners. We ought to get along, you know. What would you like me to talk about?”

“Quiet,” said Brienne, “would be a welcome change.”  
  
*  
  
The next day he spoke more, mostly stories about his life and childhood. He had left off complaining about her specifically, thank the gods.

Brienne made little or no answer to his ramblings — they didn’t seem to require any; he only needed a captive audience, and he had that in his captor.

“When my sister was with child, the bigger she got, the more I worried. Our mother died giving birth to Tyrion, you know, and our father never forgave him.” A pause as he climbed over a fallen log, tricky to do with hands tied behind him. “Although Father isn’t the most forgiving of persons, generally, so perhaps he would have hated Tyrion regardless. But I thought, with my — my nephews, and Myrcella, I thought that I might hate the child, if it killed Cersei.” 

They trudged on.

The Kingslayer said, soft: “How can you forgive someone who kills the person you love?”

Brienne felt — not pity — but sympathy. She said: “My own mother died, b ringing forth my sister.”

“And do you love her now?”

“She’s dead, too.”

“Ah,” he drawled. “So you needn’t make a choice about how to feel. How lovely for you.”

“Walk faster,” she said, and jerked the rope, making him stumble on his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can’t decide if i prefer Book!Jaime or GOT!Jaime, so you get a little of both
> 
> *
> 
> Brienne calls Tyrion “the Imp” several times in ASOIAF, and Jaime is seriously annoyed at the rude nickname
> 
> ... but Jaime calls Brienne all sorts of derogatory things as well, so


End file.
